


Bad Habit

by relised



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Minor Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Slow Burn, Stiles is just trying to save the world, Top Derek Hale, doesnt follow cannon timelines, house arrest, jackson is a recovering ass hole, juvenile detention center, probation, this is an ongoing list, vindictive judges
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-06-12 07:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15335196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relised/pseuds/relised
Summary: In hindsight, Stiles thought as he was forcefully pressed up against the deputy's cruiser, maybe kidnapping the head prosecuting attorney's son and stealing a police transport van wasn't the best idea he'd ever had.After a short (probably long coming) juvenile detention sentence, how is Stiles supposed to stop the ever coming supernatural threats finding their way to Beacon Hills when a little black box on his ankle screams if he's not inside by 7?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've always liked how Stiles seemed to get away with everything because he's the Sheriff's son. But I'm curious as so what would happen if everyone stopped turning a blind eye.

In hindsight, Stiles thought as he was forcefully pressed up against the deputy's cruiser, maybe kidnapping the head prosecuting attorney's son and stealing a police transport van wasn't the best idea he'd ever had.

Deputy Parish roughly patted him down as an EMT draped a blanket over Jackson's shoulders. The deputy was new, and Stiles thought for a moment that maybe the man didn't know who he was. The snotty response about being the Sheriff's son died on his lips, however, when Parish pulled his hand from Stiles' pocket, a ceramic bowl and bag of pot in his hand.

"Seriously, Stilinski?" The man said with a sigh, placing the paraphernalia on the roof of the cruiser as he pulled his handcuffs off his belt. "I was really hoping to not get your dad involved, but now you've forced my hand.

"Fuck," Stiles murmured, his eyes falling shut as the cold metal wrapped around his wrists. The deputy opened the back door, gently pushing the boy inside. He locked eyes with Jackson through the barred window, and for a split second Stiles thought he almost looked concerned. That lasted for all of five seconds before Parish was climbing in the front seat, dropping an evidence bag holding the bowl and pot on the passenger seat.

With a deep breath, Parish picked up his radio. "This is car 217; I'm returning to the station with the suspect. Suspect is a juvenile accused of kidnapping, grand theft auto, and drug possession."

"Roger that, car 217. Sheriff is waiting for you here."

"Fuck," Stiles mumbled again, closing his eyes against the flashing lights leading them into the night.

****

It wasn't even Stiles' idea. In fact, he was so tired that day, he couldn't even write his name let alone plan a kidnapping of a Kanima with paralytic properties in his fingers. The scenario fell in their laps in the parking lot, though, when Jackson somehow managed to paralyze himself in the process of yelling at the two friends and Scott immediately stated they had to capture him for his own good.

Maybe they could have done it without the police transport van. But Scott had insisted it would be better if they had something harder to get out of than the Jeep.

Stiles was too tired to fight the plan. He had spent two hours holding up a paralyzed Derek in the swimming pool the night before, trying desperately to keep the werewolf from drowning while a scaled Jackson paced the sides. As soon as Derek had enough feeling to keep him self afloat, Stiles had let go, the exhaustion and stress of always being under attack finally getting to him. Derek had pulled him from the pool, wrapping him in a towel before placing him the Camero and driving him home.

The Sheriff hadn't been home, and Derek slowly led Stiles up the stairs, stopping in the bathroom to turn on the hot water. He pushed the human towards the shower, promising he'd still be there when Stiles was finished. Stiles spent twenty minutes under the hot water, trying to fight through the numbness and chill coursing through his body. When he pulled the curtain back, there was a towel and a pile of clothes that he could only assume Derek left for him.

"You don't have to stay," he whispered when he returned to his room, not meeting Derek's eyes while the older man sat in his desk chair.

"I don't want to leave you alone," Derek said quietly, watching Stiles slightly tremble in front of him. "Not after what you did tonight. Besides, if Jackson comes back, you'll need me." Stiles met Derek's eyes, hesitating a moment before throwing himself into the Alpha's arms, tears filling his eyes.

"That was the scariest thing ever," he whispered into Derek's neck, tightening his grip on the man's shirt when Derek wrapped his arms around him. "I didn't know if I was going to be able to tread water that long and I was afraid your were going to drown or Jackson was going to kill us both."

Derek sighed, rubbing gently at Stiles back. He didn't want to admit it, but he'd been just as scared the entire time. Derek stood slowly, pulling Stiles with him to the boys small bed. It took some maneuvering, but Derek got Stiles laid down next to him, the boy burrowed into his side.

"Derek?" Stiles asked in question, confusion clear in his voice at how gentle the wolf was being with him.

"I trusted you to keep me alive," Derek whispered into his hair. "I've always trusted you to keep me alive. I've always trusted you to be there. You're not a wolf, but I trust you more than my pack most of the time." Stiles pulled back to look into Derek's face, seeing nothing but honesty reflecting back. Closing his eyes, Stiles pressed his lips to Derek's, his left hand coming up to cup the side of Derek's face.

Derek kissed back deeply, curling his hand into the back of Stiles' hair, glad the boy had started growing the dark locks out. Eventually he pulled away, a small grin on his face. "Go to sleep, Stiles. I'll keep you safe."

And somehow, after the scariest night of his life which may also have been one of the best days of his life, Stiles found himself driving a stolen transport van into a clearing deep in the woods. Scott was in the back, chaining Jackson to the bench to keep him restrained. Once he was sure the Kanima couldn't get away, he jumped out of the back of the van, slamming the door shut.

"I have to go to work," Scott said, glancing at the closed doors before turning back to Stiles. "It's just for a couple hours and then I'll be right back. Judging on how the paralysis has affected everyone else, he may still be out by the time I get back. Are you okay staying with him by yourself?"

"It's not like I have any other options, Scott," Stiles spat, letting his head fall back as he tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "We can't tell anyone else we stole this van. My dad's already on thin ice as it is at work and he's up for re-election next year. Just go and get back here as soon as possible."

Scott had taken off shortly after, and Stiles spent the next hour pacing outside the van and smoking pot from the bowl he kept in his back pocket. It helped with the anxiety his new supernatural life brought on, even if it was one more secret he had to deal with.

To kill time he had text Derek, asking the older man to come over later that night so they could talk about what had happened between them the night before. Between the pot and the texting, Stiles didn't hear Jackson wake or pull himself free from the restraints. He only noticed he was gone when he glanced up from his phone, his eyes going wide at the open doors.

Before he could panic, a sheriff cruiser came flying in to the clearing, an ambulance close behind. Parish had jumped from the car, his gun pulled and trained on Stiles. Jackson had appeared in the trees behind the scene, his phone that Stiles had left in the front seat in his hand.

****

Parish lead him into an interview room, unlocking one side of the handcuffs and locking it to a bar on the table so his right hand was still cuffed. Stiles dropped into the chair, burning his face into his free hand.

"I'll go get your dad," Parish said, dropping the evidence bag on the other side of the table. Stiles didn't respond, starting to chew on his cuticles as his legs jumped under the table. His dad was going to kill him; there was no question in Stiles' mind that he had really fucked up this time.

It took several minutes before the door to the interview room opened again, his dad slamming it on his way to the table.

"Damn it, Stiles," his dad said quietly, and to Stiles that was worse than if he yelled. The man dropped into the chair across from him, a thick file falling on the table in front of him. Stiles knew what the folder was; it was his "warning file." All of the illegal things he'd done that the prosecutor had let him get away with because he was the sheriff's son and he had lost his mom.

Looking up at his dad, he was stunned to realize how old the man looked. There was more white in his salt and pepper hair than dark at this point, and the deep wrinkles in his forehead ran deep. His eyes were sad as he took in his son who kept disappointing him at any turn.

"I'm sorry," Stiles whispered, looking away from his dad.

"Sorry's not going to cut it this time, kid," Noah said, clearing his throat as he flipped open the folder. He kept his voice neutral, but Stiles knew as soon as they were out of the station he would start yelling. "You kidnapped the prosecutor's son. You stole government property. And we caught you with drugs. Drugs Stiles. I thought we had an agreement on that."

"It helps me focus..." Stiles whispered, still not meeting his dad's eyes. "There's only a couple ounces, I know not to keep felony amounts."

"That's not the point, Stiles!" Noah yelled, closing his eyes as he took a few deep breaths. "It's not the point of how much you have on you. It's that you're doing it in the first place without talking to me. We're in California, we can go and get you a medical card at any time. But instead you got this the illegal way, which is not going to help your case!"

Stiles didn't say anything, his fingers working at the length of chain locking him to the table. After a few moments of silence, he looked up at his dad. "How much trouble am I in?" He whispered, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Whittemore said last time was your last warning and that was before you got Jackson involved," Noah said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If I can get him to keep the charges as a juvenile, it could be up to three years in Juvie. If he charges you as an adult..."

"So it's bad," Stiles said, trying to keep his breathing calm.

"I'm doing what I can, kid," his dad said, gesturing at the warning file. "You're history isn't really helping me. And the drugs," Stiles nodded, smashing his lips together to keep in the sob as his eyes filled with tears. "Hey," Noah said, grabbing the hand locked to the table. "We'll figure it out."

"Whittemore is here, Sheriff," Parish said from the door. Noah released Stiles' hand, scooping up the folder and evidence bag as he stood.

"Thanks, Parish. You can start booking him, Whittemore will have the charges shortly. I'll go see what I can come up with, kid." Parish approached the table, pulling a ring of keys from his belt as he did. He unhooked his right hand, wrapping his hand around Stiles' upper arm as he lead him out of the interview room.

Parish pushed him gently into a chair next to a computer before dropping tiredly into the rolling chair. He pressed a few keys on the keyboard before clearing his throat.

"I need you to spell your first name," he started, clicking on the proper field.

"Mieczyslaw," Stiles spelled slowly, swallowing thickly as the deputy continued.

"Date of birth?"

"April 18, 2002."

"Height?"

"Five foot eleven."

"Weight?"

"155."

Parish typed quietly, every once in a while glancing at the Sheriff's office where the man could be seen arguing with David Whittemore. Stiles chewed on his bottom lip, his anxiety growing as he watched his father's red face.

"Okay, Stiles," Parish said, pushing a small pad hooked to the screen to the edge of the desk. "Right hand first." Stiles placed his fingers on the pad, letting the deputy move his hand around to get the best capture of his finger prints. After a moment, they switched hands. Once he was satisfied, Parish clicked a button to accept the prints. "Okay, just need to get your mugshot."

Once again, Parish grabbed him by the upper arm, pulling him to the side of the room where a height chart was listed. Parish pushed him in front of the chart, handing him a small black sign with the sheriff's department's name and date on it. Stiles held it in front of his chest, keeping his gaze down.

"Hold that up closer to your chin. Stand up straight. Look right here," the deputy said, pointing to the top of the camera. Stiles did as he was asked, staring with dead eyes into the camera. "Good, turn to your right, keep the sign facing forward. Now your left."

After the pictures were taken, Parish returned Stiles to the interview room, sliding the handcuff back onto his right wrist.

"Your dad should be done shortly. Do you want anything?" Stiles shook his head no, letting his head rest on the table. Parish left without saying a word, the door clicking shot behind him.

****

Twenty minutes later, Noah Stilinski returned to the interview room, a packet of papers and a pen in his hand. Stiles sat up quickly, trying to read his father's face.

"I got him to keep the charges as a juvenile," Noah started, twirling the pen in his hands. "I got him down as far as I could for sentencing, but it will depend on the judge tomorrow. Minimum of one month at a juvenile detention center, a year of ankle monitored house arrest. You'll have to be home 7pm-7am on school days, and 8pm-8am on the weekends. Biweekly drug testing and you're going to need to complete a drug and alcohol course through the JDC. 500 hours of community service. Minimum of three years of probation. Jackson will have a restraining order upon your release; outside of school you're not to go near him."

Stiles swallowed thickly, staring at this hands. It seemed like a lot, but considering the number of times Jackson's dad had let him slide it was fair. And had the man decided to try him as an adult, which considering Stiles was almost 17 was a strong possibility, it would have been worse.

"Okay," Stiles finally whispered, meeting his dad's eyes.

"You'll need to write out your statement; what you did and why. Once that's completed and the deal is signed, we'll send it to Judge Connors office. You'll appear in front of him tomorrow to get the final sentencing; most of it's set but he can add to the JDC stay or house arrest. Whittemore has agreed to seal your record, so that's promising at least. This won't damage your chances of getting into a good school." Stiles nodded in agreement, college that last thing on his mind.

"Do I have to stay here tonight?" He asked, his eyes stinging from tears.

"No, you're being released into my custody for the night. I'm sure Connors will mandate your sentence to start immediately, so you can get one last good night of sleep before hand." Stiles nodded again, hot tears rolling down his face. His dad spun the packet of papers to him, unlocking the handcuff before handing the pen to Stiles. "As soon as you've wrote out your statement, we can get out of here."

****

Somehow, the Jeep had ended up at the station. He had (probably stupidly) left if at the county garage when they took the van and someone had made sure it made it's way back to his dad. Stiles crawled into the passenger seat, letting his head fall back against the head rest. Noah climbed into the driver seat, turning over the ignition in one try in a way Stiles has never figured out. He was silent as they pulled out of the parking lot, turning the windshield wipers on to combat the light rain. The man cleared his throat, and Stiles tensed, waiting for the yelling to begin.

"I don't know what you were thinking," the sheriff began, not taking his eyes off the road as he turned left onto Columbus Street. "You've always acted out since your mom, but something has changed recently. This is beyond stupidity for the sake of stupidity and this is beyond just looking for attention. You're out in the woods at all hours of the night, trespassing on the Hale property and the school all the time. And you're lying to me. I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth, Stiles. I've covered for you as much as I can, but I'm elected to this position. And I won't be re-elected if I keep letting you get away with this shit. This is our only source of income; did you ever think that your actions may lead to me losing my job? Don't think I don't know how you got the keys to the van."

They had pulled into the drive way, quickly running into the house to avoid the rain. The Sheriff removed his utility belt once they were inside, putting his service weapon into a small safe in his study. His voice was low and steady, but Stiles was posed for the screaming to begin.

"I don't want them to send you away," Noah said, pouring himself a finger depth of whiskey before returning to the living room where Stiles still stood, staring at his feet. "But you've pushed my hand, kid. If I let you keep doing this, you're going to end up in a lot more trouble then JDC and house arrest. Do you understand me?"

Stiles nodded, shuffling from one foot to the other. "Aren't you going to yell at me?" Noah stared at him for a long time before sighing, pulling his son into his arms.

"No, Mischief. I think my disappointment has made more of an affect than yelling ever could. Go get some sleep; I've got some paperwork to fill out and I've got to get your meds ready to send to the JDC." He pressed a kiss to the top of Stiles head, pushing him towards the stairs. "I love you, kid."

"I love you, too."

****

Derek wasn't eavesdropping. He wasn't. He had slid into Stiles room at 8:30 just as he promised he would, but the boy wasn't there. He sent a quick text to the boy, but it had came back as undelivered. He sat down in the desk chair, drumming slightly on his legs as he waited. And waited. And waited some more.

It was just after midnight when Derek heard the front door open and the Stilinski men shuffled in. From where he was sitting in dark, he could hear the Sheriff saying something about sending Stiles away and house arrest. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he could hear Stiles slowly walking up the stairs, pausing in the bathroom to brush his teeth. Finally the bedroom door opened, the teenager startling at the dark figure at his desk. He flipped the light on, letting a sigh of relief.

"Derek," he breathed out, his red rimmed eyes meeting Derek's bright blue.

"What happened?" Derek asked, pushing himself out of the chair, meeting Stiles halfway. The boy fell into his arms, tears already soaking his henley.

"I fucked up," Stiles whispered, "I really fucked up." Derek tightened his grip on Stiles, leading him to the bed where the boy tearfully told the story of how the Kanima ruined everything again.

****  
Stiles stood tall next to his father as Judge Connors addressed them, glancing down at the papers in front of him.

"Mr. Stilinski," he said, his voice echoing through the court. The pews were mostly empty, Jackson and his mother sitting behind the prosecutor, Derek tucked away in a far corner. "I'm surprised this is the first time you're appearing in front of me. Maybe if you had for one of the many things I'm sure you've gotten away with, we wouldn't have such a serious situation today."

Stiles swallowed thickly, hating how all eyes were on him, The judge flipped through his statement, pausing to read something before shaking his head. He tossed the statement back onto the desk before interlacing his fingers and staring at Stiles.

"I do believe the prosecutor's office is letting you off lightly considering the mayhem you and your friends have caused this town over the years. But I accept the sentencing except two points; I sentence you to two months at the King County Juvenile Detention Center rather than the proposed one. I also require you to reappear in front of me before the end of your house arrest. If at that time I feel you haven't learned your lesson, we may address another JDC stay." Stiles glanced at his dad before nodding. It could be so much worse, so he didn't argue.

"During ankle monitoring, should you abuse the curfew, you will return to JDC. Should you have any positive drug tests, you will return to JDC. Should you tamper with the ankle monitor, you will return to the JDC. You harass Mr. Whittemore, you will return to JDC. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Stilinski? The slightest infraction and I have no issues with sending you back to JDC." Stiles gulped, but nodded. "I then reman you into the county's custody immediately. You will be transported to King County this afternoon."

The judge banged his gavel before leaving the room. Parish approached Stiles slowly, pulling his handcuffs from his belt. He spun Stiles around, pulling his hands behind his back. Stiles met Jackson's eyes as the cuffs were tightened around his wrists. Jackson hesitated, looking like he was going to say something. But then his father was leading him from the court room and the boy never looked back.

Parish lead Stiles from the court room with his hand once again wrapped around Stiles upper arm. His dad stayed with him as they were lead to the clerk's desk where the deputy completed the transfer paperwork. As the Sheriff and his deputy talked quietly, Stiles looked around, pulling at the cuffs slightly. Derek stepped out from behind one of the stone pillars and met his eyes.

"You're going to be okay," the Alpha said just loud enough for the boy to hear, and Stiles nodded, his eyes welling with tears. Derek gave him a small encouraging smile before turning for the door. Stiles took a deep shuttering breath, shaking his head in a failed attempt to clear the tears without his hands.

"Okay kid," Noah said, gently wiping the tears off his son's face. "Parish is going to take you now."

"You can't take me?" Stiles asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Unfortunately, no. I've had to recuse myself from your case, so I'm not a cop in this situation. I've already done my part of your intake paperwork, and Parish has your Adderall, your Prozac, and your Ativan to turn in to them. I'm getting notes from your doctor so they know you're drug tests will test positive for amphetamines and benzodiazepines. Everything will be okay. I'll be there at first visitations, I promise." The tears seemed to come faster then, and Stiles couldn't stop the sob that escaped. "You're okay, Mischief. Everything is going to be okay."

Stiles nodded, taking a gasping breath as Perish lead him to the door, his file and pills tucked under his arms. Stiles took one last look at his father who gave him an encouraging smile. The two longest months of his life started now.


	2. Chapter 2

 "Where's Stiles? He hasn't been in class all day," Lydia asked as she sat her tray down on the table. Scott flinched, biting his lip.

"We might of have fucked up last night. Big time," Scott said, pushing his tray away. Isaac lifted a brow in question since Scott had came home right after work and hadn't left again. Lydia stared at him coldly.

"What did you do?" She asked with a sigh.

"We might have kidnapped Jackson yesterday. And stole a transport van to keep him in. I had to go to work, but Jackson got lose and called the cops. Stiles got arrested." Allison rubbed his back lightly, giving him a small smile. Lydia closed her eyes, already fallowing where Scott was going.

"So," Boyd said, peeling the wrapper of his water bottle. "He's the Sheriff's son. He gets away with shit all the time."

"After they got caught trespassing on Derek's land when Laura died and for tampering with the body, Jackson's dad told Stiles that was his last warning. He said they weren't going to turn a blind eye the next time he got in trouble," Lydia said quietly, meeting Scott's eyes as the Alpha nodded.

"And Parish found Stiles' pot stash on him when they arrested him. Mr. Stilinski called my mom late last night. He said Stiles was pleading guilty and that they had worked with Mr. Whittemore to get the sentencing down as low as possible. But he was still going to have to go to juvie for at least a month and then house arrest."

"Fuck," Isaac breathed out, staring at Scott with wide eyes.

"I feel awful," Scott said, letting his head fall in his hands. "This was all my idea and he didn't even want to do it. I had to go to work and left him there. He's gotta be so scared." Scott lifted his head from his hands, his eyes going wide as Jackson entered the cafeteria, making a bee line for their table.

"Are you happy now, McCall?" He hissed, throwing his bag down as he slid into the table. "I don't know what you and Stilinski were playing at, but now you got my dad involved. Whatever bullshit you've been spouting about some lizard, leave me out of it. It's got nothing to do with me." Isaac opened his mouth to argue that it had a lot to do with Jackson, but Scott cut him off.

"This has everything to do with you," Scott said, jabbing his finger into Jackson's chest were the taller boy hovered over him. "Even if it didn't have anything to do with you, was this really enough to press charges on Stiles? To get him sent to juvie for a month?"

"Two months," Jackson said, slowly sitting down as he avoided Lydia's wide eyes. "We met with the judge this morning and he sentenced him to two. And my dad's the county prosecutor, McCall. Do you really think I had any say about pressing charges or not. Stilinski has a file a mile wide that Dad's let slide; it's not my fault he thought he could get away with this shit. And it's not my fault he had his stash on him when he did it."

Jackson flinched when Lydia hit him with her notebook, her face furious as she lifted the book to do it again.

"Hey! Don't hit me!" He growled, grabbing the notebook from her hand.

"How could you!" Lydia hissed, hitting him with her fists this time. "This is Stiles we're talking about; spastic, skinny, harmless Stiles. He's not some hardened criminal, Jackson! How do you think he's going to fair locked up with violent teenagers?" Everyone at the table seemed to have the same thought as they stared around in concern.

"He'll be okay," Isaac finally spoke up, staring down at his hands. "I was sent to a foster home with a bunch of former inmates from King County once. Everyone was pretty much fine as long as you keep to yourself. Stiles' is smart; he'll keep his head down."

"He better be okay," Lydia said, pulling her notebook from Jackson before once more smacking him with it. She stomped off, Allison following close behind.

"I was the one kidnapped," Jackson whined, ducking away from the apple Isaac threw at his head.

****

Deputy Parish lead Stiles through the intake door at King County Juvenile Detention Center just before noon. Once they entered the intake room, he removed the handcuffs before turning to the man behind the desk.

"I have Stilinski from Beacon Hills," he said, handing over the transport paperwork and the bag holding Stiles' pills. The man nodded, clicking a few buttons on the computer before turning to face Stiles.

"Stilinski as in Sheriff Stilinski?" He asked, rising to his feet to pick up a blank chart to start for Stiles.

"He's my dad," Stiles said quietly, rubbing at his sore wrists.

"Well you're not the first one with a law enforcement parent we see here. Can I get your signature here, deputy?" The man asked, pointing at a line for Parish to sign. "Thank you. We'll take him from here."

Parish nodded, pulling his keys from his pocket. "Keep your head down, Stiles. We'll see you soon."

The man gestured at the chair in front of his desk, and Stiles sat perched on the edge. The light hit the blonde man's hair just right, making it look like he had a halo.

"My name's Rossman. I'm the superintendent here and I'm in charge. Any issues will be brought to me." Stiles nodded, chewing on the hangnail on his thumb. "You'll be assigned to a job for the duration of your sentence. I have you assigned to the library and a schedule will be provided to you. You'll be required to attend schooling each day; since you'll only be here a couple months, we'll request your make up assignments from your school. Our long term inmates are working on their GED's.

"It looks like Connors' has assigned you to the drug and alcohol course," Rossman said, sliding a packet of forms onto the metal arms of the chart. He began filling out forms without looking up at Stiles. "The class meets twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1-4 pm. You need to be at both classes each week to get credit. We'll also have weekly drug testing. We received a fax from your doctor about 20 minutes ago stating expected medication we should find in your system. Besides amphetamines and benzos, is there anything else you believe I should know about before we do the first test?"

"Um, there...there will be pot," Stiles stuttered, glancing up at the superintendent before looking down at his hands. "I smoked last night before...before I was arrested." Rossman nodded, continuing to write in the chart.

"Okay. I'll be turning these over to the nurse," Rossman said, gesturing to the pill bottles. "You'll report there for all doses. Do not make her hunt you down." The man turned to his computer, typing in a few things before clicking a few buttons. A small printer next to the computer sprang to life, printing out a white ID bracelet. "I need your right hand." Stiles held out his arm, trying to keep the limb from shaking as the man fit the bracelet around his wrist and cut off the excess.

"We're ready for check-in," Rossman said, rising to his feet again. "Follow me." The tall man slid his ID into a keycard reader next to a metal door. He lead Stiles past a row of lockers and cabinets, stopping at an exam room with a shower and toilet. He dropped Stiles' chart on the counter, pulling a urine test kit out of a upper cabinet. He pulled the curtain hanging just inside the door closed to block the window in the door, turning to look at Stiles.

"Go a head and strip," he said, pulling out an evidence bag. "Put your clothes in here when you're done." Stiles nodded, his hands shaking as he pulled his shirt over his head. Rossman had his back turned, pulling a red uniform and matching canvas shoes out of a lower cabinet. Stiles stripped down to his underwear, crossing his arms over his chest and clearing his throat. The guard turned around, pulling a pair of gloves on. "Underwear, too." He said, gesturing to the pair of tighty-whitey's sitting on top of the uniform. Stiles blushed, but slid his briefs off and shoving them into the bag.

"Open your mouth wide for me," Rossman said, shining a flashlight into Stiles' mouth as he used a popsicle stick to move his tongue out of the way. Once satisfied he hadn't smuggled anything in his mouth, he quickly searched Stiles' hair. "I need you to squat and cough."

"What?" Stiles asked, his eyes wide.

"Squat down and cough, Stilinski," Rossman ordered, staring Stiles down. "You'd be surprised the places people try to hide weapons on their way in." Stiles' cheeks burned brighter as he squatted down, coughing lightly. "Again." Stiles did as he was asked, glancing up at the man's face who nodded his satisfaction. Stiles stood slowly, his legs shaking. Rossman opened the urine cup, handing it to Stiles.

"I need it filled to at least the bottom line," he said, leaning against the counter as Stiles stared down at the cup. The boy turned away to the toilet, trying to ignore the man as he emptied his bladder. He handed the cup back to Rossman, who put on the lid. "This is an antibacterial soap. I need you to shower off using this, then you can get dressed." Stiles nodded, taking the offered soap and crossing the room to the shower.

Once he was dry, Stiles put on the provided uniform, the clothes hanging loosely on his small frame. Once he was dressed, Rossman gestured for Stiles to follow him further down the hallway. At the end of the hallway, the man opened a cabinet and pulled out a pile of blankets and a pillow. Stiles wrinkled his nose at the thin pillow, already missing his pillow at home. Rossman also supplied him with two more uniforms and a sweatshirt. With his arms full, Stiles slowly followed the man to another door which required a keycard.

"This is the common area," Rossman said as he lead Stiles through a large room with tables scattered around. "If you are not in class or working, you are free to be here between 8 am and 9 pm. This is the nurses station," he gestured at a dutch door that had the bottom portion closed. "This is where you need to go to get your medications. Nurse Ferguson will have the door open starting at 8am." They continued through the large room where Rossman pointed at another door.

"This is the recreation room; there's mostly weight lifting supplies, some basketballs. This is the classroom; classes start at 9 am each morning. Next to that is the library. Your first shift will start tomorrow at 1 pm following lunch. The cafeteria is just through there. I'll take you there once we get you settled into your cell since you got here at lunch time." Rossman started climbing a set of metal stairs at the far end of the room.

"Curfew is at 9:15 pm. All cell doors will be shut at that time and there are bed checks at 9:30. The cell doors will open again at 7:45 the next morning. Here are the shared showers, and there are another set at the other end of the hall. This will be your cell," Rossman said, entering the fourth cell on the right. "I pulled some strings and you're in here alone for now. I always liked your dad, so this is a favor for him. We're short on beds, though, so you may not be alone for long."

"Thank you," Stiles whispered, dropping his bedding and uniforms on the bottom bunk.

"It's your responsibility to keep your cell organized. Random cell inspections occur each week with no warning." Stiles nodded, licking his lips. "Lets get you to lunch; drug and alcohol class starts in twenty minutes."

****  
Jackson had had a long day. Lydia still wasn't talking to him, Scott had literally tackled him at practice even though he didn't have the ball, and Isaac of all people had yelled at him. On top of that, he'd found another ripped leather jacket in his car and some kind of slime stuck to the door that he was afraid to touch.

McCall had been rambling on and on about how they thought he was turning into a vindictive lizard with paralytic slime that came out of his "claws." And honestly, if he really was turning into some scaled creature and running wild around the town, wouldn't he be the first to know? Besides, outside of Isaac's brother Camden, he'd never met any members of the 2006 swim team he was supposedly out to kill.

But Lydia was completely terrified of him, and every time he seemed to space out even the slightest her voice would raise to almost painful decibels while screaming his name. He had heard about Stiles being paralyzed in the office at the auto shop downtown, not being able to look away as the Kanima dropped the car jack onto the mechanic. He'd also heard something about Derek being paralyzed and Stiles having to hold him a float in a swimming pool for hours.

Jackson had no recollection where he was during any of those events. He always woke up in his bed, so he had just assumed he slept through everything. He couldn't be a lizard. Derek's bite hadn't taken, didn't that mean he couldn't be a supernatural creature?

He quietly climbed the stairs to his room, trying not to alert his parents he was home. His mother had been beside herself when he arrived at the station the night before, screaming that the Stilinski boy had finally lost his damn mind. He had never seen his father so mad, watching through the window as he gestured to a thick file while he screamed at the Sheriff. He had watched from one of the other interview rooms as Parish had booked the scrawny boy. Jackson never thought his dad would actually uphold the charges and he'd tried to argue with his dad that night that it wasn't necessary.

"That boy is a public menace, Jackson. We've let offense after offense slide for that boy because of who his father is and because what happened to his mom. I gave him one final warning last fall. That's it. If he was an adult, these could be felony offenses. He needs to learn his lesson."

"Dad, it's Stiles. He's harmless. He didn't mean it, seriously. I don't want to press charges."

"Well lucky for you, Jackson, you're underage and you don't get to make those decisions," David had said, throwing back the last of his drink before leaving the room.

Jackson didn't turn the lights on when he entered his room, instead falling face first onto his bed with a heavy sigh. He didn't notice the dark figure sitting at his desk until the figure spoke.

"How could you get Stiles sent away, Jackson?" Derek asked, leaning into the last bit of setting sunlight pouring through the window. Jackson jumped, scrambling to his feet.

"How did you get in here?" He asked, his eyes wide.

"Your mother let me in," Derek said, rolling his eyes. Jackson stared at him in horror. "The window, dumbass. Now, how could you let them send Stiles away."

"You too?" The blonde asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees. "You all seem to think I had some kind of say in any of this. So I'll tell you what I told Lydia. What I told Scott. What I told Isaac. I didn't get a say in if charges were pressed against him. He stole government property. He had drugs on him. He kidnapped the prosecutor's son with no lucid reason to anyone who doesn't know about werewolves. I told my dad I didn't want to press charges and that he was harmless. My dad said that wasn't my decision to make.

"It was only a matter of time, Derek. If it wasn't this time, it would be the next time he was found with a dead body or trespassing on someone else's property chasing wolves. I saw his warning file at the station. It was thicker than the last Harry Potter book. But I'll say it again, this wasn't my fault. I had no say."

Derek stared at the tired boy in front of him, his eyes flashing red for a moment before letting out a sigh.

"I know you don't believe us that you're the Kanima, Jackson. Stiles was only trying to keep others safe from you and you safe from everyone else. If something happens to him in there..."

"You all keep saying I'm turning into some lizard, but wouldn't I know if it was me, Derek? Wouldn't I know if I was out killing people I don't know in the middle of the night? Stiles will be fine, it's only two months." Derek glared at him, a slight growl escaping his lips. "Down boy."

"First I'm going to deal with your murderous rampage," Derek said, ticking of the count on his clawed fingers. "Then we'll deal with Stiles. This is still your fault, Jackson." The alpha turned, sliding out of the window without another word. Jackson sighed as he shut the window. Just add it to the long list of things that were his fault.

****   
Stiles made it almost a week before he got a cell mate. Surprisingly his first week hadn't been _that_ bad. He hadn't gotten much sleep, but really he's pretty much been left alone. There were a couple of bigger guys covered in gang tattoos that he avoided like the plague, but some of the guys that hung out in the library seemed to be almost nice.

School hours were pretty useless, since the teacher seemed to focus on the GED kids while Stiles and one other inmate were working on make up work from their own schools. He'd spent most of the morning struggling through calculus and the teacher had stared blankly at the problem when he asked for help. The drug and alcohol class was awful, mostly because it was so boring and partially because they just repeatedly used scare tactics to keep you off of it.

He liked his job at the library, only because he could hide away in the stacks for hours restocking the same book and not having to talk to anyone. He had just returned from his shift, hoping to read a bit of the book he'd brought back when he found his new cell mate. The boy was curled into a ball on the top bunk, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"Oh," Stiles said quietly, taking a step back before clearing his throat. "Uh, hi. I'm Stiles." The boy jumped before turning and looking at him.

"Is that your first or last name?" The boy asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Neither," Stiles said, throwing himself onto his bed and opening the book. "My last name is Stilinski and no one can pronounce my first name." The boy on the bunk above him was quiet for a moment and Stiles wondered if he had fallen asleep. He jumped slightly when the boy spoke again.

"I'm Liam. Why are you here?"

"Kidnapping, stealing a cop car, and possession," Stiles rattled off, closing his eyes. "There's probably more, but being the sheriff's son means I got away with a lot. What about you?"

"I killed my girlfriend," Liam said quietly, and Stiles sat up quickly, the book falling off the bed.

"What?"

"I...I didn't do it on purpose. I just kind of blacked out and I woke up and she was gone...There was a lot of talk about if I should go here or Eichen House and they finally landed here."

"Why would you go to Eichen House?" Stiles asked, wrinkling his nose in confusion. Why would this boy need to go to an insane asylum?

"I...I have intermittent explosive disorder."

"So you're literally a walking IED," Stiles mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. Liam didn't answer, but Stiles could hear him crying again.

****

Stiles slid into a chair across the table from his father, shooting the man a tired smile.

"How you doing, kid?" Noah asked, searching his son's face. Stiles fiddled with the ID band on his wrist, staring down at M. Stilinski and his inmate number in bold print.

"Did you know that a man in Ohio once tried to smuggle 90 balloons of heroin up his butt?" Stiles asked, his leg jumping under the table.

"So I see the drug and alcohol class is going well," Noah said with a grin, rolling his eyes. "Is anyone giving you a hard time?"

"Not really," Stiles responded, running a hand through his hair. "There's a couple guys that give everyone a hard time but they haven't really lashed out at me personally."

"Good, that's good. Do you have a cell mate?"

"I just got one the other day. Rossman kept me by myself as long as he could but he said there's a bed shortage across the state. Liam's from a couple county's over."

"Rossman's a good man," Noah said with a nod. "Is Liam your cell mate?"

"Yeah. Apparently he killed his girlfriend in a blackout." The Sheriff's eyes widened as he took in his son's calm attitude. "I don't think he meant it. He has intermittent explosive disorder. It happened during a blackout."

Noah sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. He watched son's face, taking in the slight twitches the boy made, his eyes constantly roaming the visitors lounge. Clearly his constant observations had worn off on the boy.

"Are you getting enough sleep?" Stiles shrugged, chewing on his thumbnail.

"Couple hours a night. A lot of the guys cry out in the night and it's hard to sleep. I'll get used to it, it's fine."

"Have you been getting your pills?" Stiles nodded, giving his dad a tight smile. Noah sighed, tapping the table. "Scott sends his best, he said to tell you the "pack" is thinking about you. Funny choice of words, pack. You'd think you were all a bunch of dogs." Stiles took in a shaky breath, trying to hide the laugh caught on his lips. "Derek Hale has been hanging around an awful lot as well. Care to tell me why a 23 year old former murder suspect has been so concerned about my almost 17 year old son?"

"Criminals stick together?" Stiles responded sarcastically, flinching when he dad sighed again. "I don't know dad. Things are complicated and we didn't get to talk about it before kidnap gate happened."

"Must you always make jokes? This is serious."

"It's a coping mechanism. It's either that or I cry until I crack," Stiles said seriously and his dad sighed, nodding his head in understanding.

"Okay. Well you've almost got two weeks down. Just six more to go."

"Six more weeks," Stiles repeated, nodding his head. Noah stood, pulling his son into a hug.

"Be good. I'll see you soon."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I'm not sure if Liam will be a big part of this story outside of the detention center yet, but he seemed like a good fit. I'll update as soon as I can


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: panic attacks, attempted rape

  
Stiles groaned as the sirens went off over head, slowly dropping to his knees to lay on his belly in the stacks. He strained to keep his neck up to keep his face off the dusty floor, his hands intertwined behind his head. The sirens went off every time someone got in a fight, and the inmates were forced to lay on the floor until the trouble makers were dragged off to solitary and the guards finished their counts of everyone who remained.

The sirens had been going off almost daily as of late. Ever since the new kid from Champagne County had been brought in, all the gangs seemed to feel like they needed to prove themselves. And Stiles, who had dealt with many the supernatural creature, was more terrified of James Johnson than he had been of any werewolf.

"Who do you think it was this time?" Someone said quietly from the next row and Stiles recognized the voice of Miller who also had library duty.

"I keep waiting for it to be Liam," Stiles said, wrinkling nose as he ducked his head to relieve the kink in his neck.

"Hey!" Another voice called, and Stiles grinned when he realized it was Liam somewhere else in the small library.

"Good job staying out of trouble, buddy," Stiles laughed.

"Quiet, inmate!" A guard growled, clicking the button on his counter as he walked through the library. Stiles swallowed his laugh, keeping his eyes on the dust bunny stuck to the bottom shelf. Who was supposed to be mopping these floors, anyway? "Everyone to your cells!"

"But my shift isn't over for another hour," Stiles said, slowly climbing to his feet.

"What did I say?" The inmate asked, irritation written across his face.

"Everyone to your cells," Stiles mumbled, ducking his head as he followed Liam out of the library and up the metal stairs.

"What do you think happened?" Liam asked as the doors slid shut on every cell on their level. They had never been locked in during the day before, but Stiles had heard from one of the inmates that had been there for almost a year that it happened sometimes in emergency situations. Stiles craned his neck, trying to see through the bars in their cell.

"Something bad, apparently," he said, giving up and throwing himself onto his bed. He hadn't even been able to get a new book to bring back with him.

"You think it has something to do with Johnson?" Liam asked, climbing up onto his own bed.

"I'm sure it does. Even if he didn't do it himself, he seems to be able to get everyone to do his dirty work for him." Liam hummed, staring at the ceiling.

"Have you talked to him before?" The boy asked, and Stiles let out an hysterical peel of laughter.

"The guy gives me the creeps. I've been lucky to stay away from him and that how I plan on keeping it. I've got a month left. I can totally stay away from him for a month. Hopefully he'll get caught doing something soon and get sent to solitary himself..."

"Well, don't worry about him giving you a hard time," Liam said, leaning over the side of his bed, smiling down at Stiles. "I'll keep you safe."

***  
Derek had never thought they'd be able to solve the Kanima problem without Stiles. He thought he had missed his chance to save the boy when he had died on the lacrosse field. But here they were, Derek keeping Jackson locked between Isaac, Scott and the Jeep.

Gerard laid moaning on the floor, black goo oozing from his mouth and nose as he screamed for Jackson to kill them all. The creature continued to lash out at them, it's high pitched screams hurting his sensitive ears. He bared his teeth in warning, moving closer to the boy.

"Jackson," Lydia called her voice shaking as she pulled up a chain that had been tucked into her shirt. At the end of the chain was a key, and upon seeing it, the creature in front of them froze. He slowly transitioned from full to half Kanima, the scales fading and his eyes looking more human by the minute. Derek took his chance, driving his claws into Jackson's chest as his uncle did the same from his back. Lydia rushed forward, catching Jackson before he fell as the two werewolves withdrew their claws.

"Do..." Jackson coughed out, blood on his lips. "Do you still...?"

"I do," Lydia whispered, her face wet with tears. "I do still love you. I do."

Derek watched as she slowly lowered the boy watching for any sign of life. The scales continued to fade from his body and he looked human once again. As Isaac pulled Lydia away from the body, Derek noticed Jackson's clawed hands start to twitch. His eyes flew to the wound in the boys chest that was healing rapidly. With a gasping breath, Jackson quickly sat up and Derek saw that the bite had finally taken. The boy stared at him with electric blue eyes, werewolf fur covering his face. Lydia let out another sob before throwing herself at her ex, wrapping her arms around his panting form.

"Totally not how I saw that going," Peter mumbled behind him, and Derek rolled his eyes as he slowly made his way out of the warehouse. He climbed into the Jeep he'd borrowed from Stiles dad, cursing as he glanced in the rear view mirror before he could back out.

Noah Stilinski stood staring in shock, his hands wrapped tightly around his service pistol. Derek quickly climbed out of the Jeep and approached the Sheriff slowly as if approaching a wild animal. Which, considering what Derek was, was pretty ironic.

"What...What the hell was that?" Noah asked, not taking his eyes off of where Lydia was helping Jackson to his feet. "He was dead. I saw him. I saw them put him in a body bag. And his eyes...Your eyes...Hale, you had better start talking!"

Derek sighed, nodding his head as he gestured for Noah to lower his weapon. "I had hoped to not have to do this without Stiles, but...Just promised me you won't have a heart attack, okay? Because if something happens to you while Stiles is in Juvie, he's going to kill me when he gets out."

"Hale!"

"Okay, so werewolves are real," he started, wincing at the look the sheriff gave him. "I know it sounds crazy, but...Just watch." Closing his eyes, Derek lets his features shift. He can feel his hair growing, the claws poking through his fingers. He opened his eclectic blue eyes to blink sheepishly at the man in front of him. Noah opened and closed his mouth several times before finally saying:

"Holy Fuck."

***  
"Hey Dad," Stiles said with a tired grin, slipping into the chair across the table from his father.

"Hey Mischief," Noah said, a knowing look on his face. "So, some interesting things happened this weekend."

"Oh? What happened?" Stiles asked, furrowing his brow as he chewed on his thumb nail.

"Well lets see, Jackson died at the lacrosse game. And then came back as a lizard. Then died again. And then came back as a werewolf." Stiles' eyes grew wide, taking in his father's unimpressed look. "That's right, I know. Ended up getting a crash course from Derek after I stumbled on Jackson's little trick."

"Dad, I wanted to tell you!" Stiles said, his hands twitching. "I did, but-"

He was cut off by the sound of the sirens going off, again. He groaned, sinking to the floor with the five other inmates in the visitor lounge.

"Stiles-," Noah started, glancing around with wide eyes as guards came into the room and started ushering the inmates back through the gate.

"It's fine, dad!" Stiles called over his shoulder as a tall guard steered him out of the room by his arm. "I'll be fine."

He let out a huff as he was pushed into a holding cell near the intake office, his hands pulled behind his back as a pair of handcuffs were slapped onto his wrists. Typically they were searched after visits, but since the guards seemed to be busy those inmates who had been at visitations were being restrained until the situation was handled. Stiles pulled at his wrists, wincing at the feel of metal cutting into his skin.

"Hey pretty boy," a voice called from the neighboring cell, and it took Stiles a moment to realize the guy was talking to him.

"I...what?" He asked, his right leg jumping anxiously.

"Johnson has had his eye on you, pretty boy. He wants you something awful and he doesn't appreciate that your little side kick always seems to be around. But don't you worry, we took care of that head case."

"My side kick?" Stiles asked, brow furrowed in confusion. Then he remembered that Liam barely left his side since he had admitted how afraid he was of Johnson. "Liam? What did you do to him?"

"He'll just have a little cool off in solitary. Just enough time for Johnson to get to know you. If you're smart, you won't make him look for you. He doesn't like to play hide and seek."

Stiles gulped, his heart pounding in his chest. This kind of stuff didn't happen in Juvie, right? Prison bitches weren't a thing when you were under eighteen. He had thought Liam was being dramatic when he said he was going to keep Stiles safe, that Stiles couldn't go anywhere with him. But maybe Liam knew something Stiles didn't.

He started taking big, gulping breaths, trying to get air into his lungs as he mind panicked. He tried to pull his hands free, crying out when the metal of the handcuffs cut into his skin. Stiles rocked back and forth, sobs caught in his throat as he fought his way through a panic attack that was strong enough to make the edges of his vision darken. Just as he thought he was going to pass out, the cell door opened to show Rossman, a worried expression on his face as he flipped through his keys to open up to cuffs.

Stiles ducked his head between his knees, wrapping his hands around his neck as he tried to catch his breath, his body rocking back and forth. He heard Rossman radioing for Nurse Furgeson. He tried to argue he was fine, but the woman in scrubs was already practically shoving an Ativan down his throat, threatening to send him to medical if he didn't take it.He did as he was told, opening his mouth and lifting his tongue to prove that he had taken the pill.

After the nurse left, Rossman pushed him to stand with his hands braced against the wall. He patted Stiles down quickly, his quick fingers ghosting over his skin.

"How you doing, kid?" He asked as he gestured for Stiles to hand him his shoes, searching under the inserts before handing them back. "Anyone giving you any trouble?"

"I'm fine," Stiles mumbled as he slipped his shoes back on.

"Panic attack like that doesn't scream fine," Rossman said, standing in front of Stiles with his hands on his hips.

"My visit got cut short, then I got shoved in here, and the cuffs were too tight. It was a knee jerk response," he said, not meeting the mans eyes. Rossman studied him for a while before nodding at the guard outside the door. The guard let them out and Rossman led him back to his cell.

"Dunbar's in solitary for a week," Rossman said as Stiles sat down on his bunk, still refusing to meet the man's eyes. "Keep your head down, Stilinski."

***  
He'd tried avoiding it. Being alone in the community room or the library or the cafeteria was terrifying in it's own rights, but there were enough guards around that he wasn't too worried.

It was the showers that worried him.

Stiles went three days without showering after Liam got sent to solitary, feeling disgusting in his sweaty clothes to the point his skin felt like it was crawling. Finally, on the fourth day he couldn't stand it anymore and gathered his stuff. He waited until the showers were typically busy, not caring about cold water if it meant just the littlest bit of security.

He stood under the spray of the water for what felt like ages, letting it wash over his tight muscles and grimy hair. At some point, he must have closed his eyes and when he opened them again, the bathroom was empty save for one other person. The one person Stiles had been trying to avoid.

"Look at that tight ass," James Johnson moaned, his hand wrapped around his hard dick as he took a menacing step closer to Stiles. Stiles tried to take a step back, cursing in his head when his back ran into a wall. He'd put himself in the corner with the hopes of added security. All it did, however, was trap him in this hell.

"Stay away from me, Johnson," Stiles said, his voice shaking.

"But why would I do that, pretty boy. Ever since I got here, all I can picture is you under me, that tight little ass taking all of my cock." He took another step closer, close enough to grab Stiles jaw in a tight grip. "But I can make it good for you, too, baby. It's not all about me. I can make you scream real good, make you feel real good."

"No," Stiles gasped, trying to push the bigger man away from him. Johnson just grinned at him, tightening his grip on Stiles' jaw until Stiles was sure it would bruise. The man was pumping swiftly at his dick as he smashed his lips to Stiles' own, licking his way into the boys mouth as Stiles fought for freedom. "Let go of me!"

Before he knew what was happening, Johnson had him flipped so he was facing the wall with his hands trapped behind him.

"You going to be so good for me baby, aren't you," Johnson purred, his hot breath on Stiles ear.

"No! No, let go," Stiles cried, fighting to get his wrists free. He could feel Johnson's hard penis pressing to his ass and with a last spirt of energy Stiles through his head back and head butted the boy who had him trapped. Johnson screamed, his hands flying to his bloody nose. Stiles took that opportunity to knee the guy in the balls, pinning him to the ground and punching him repeatedly once he was down.

Stiles continued to sob as he drove his fist into the side of Johnson's head, his knuckles split with blood running down the drain with the forgotten shower water. He sobbed louder when rough hands pulled him off of his would be rapist and pulled his arms tight behind his back. He squirmed under the hands that pulled him from the bathroom, still naked except the handcuffs as they lead him towards solitary confinement. Stiles tried to dig his bare feet into the ground as they approached the small cell, but the guard merely sighed before dragging him in. Another guard dropped a uniform on the cot before they shut the door, gesturing for him to stick his hands out the small opening to take the cuffs off.

After he pulled his uniform back on, Stiles curled onto the tiny bed. For the first time since he'd arrived at King County Juvenile Correction Facility, he cried himself to sleep.

***

"Something wrong, Sheriff?" Derek asked as he placed a to-go coffee cup in front of the man. Noah continued to stair at his desk phone for a moment before sighing heavily. He nodded his thanks at Derek bringing him coffee before sighing.

"Superintendent from King County called me a little bit ago. Seems Stiles got in a pretty bad fight. The other kids been in medical for two days. Of course, they had to notify Judge Connors and he added another month to his sentence and they've taken away visitation rights."

"That doesn't sound like Stiles," Derek said, staring down at his own coffee. "Stiles wouldn't do something like that. He only has two weeks left.

"Normally, I would agree with you. But King County holds some of the worst of the worst juvenile offenders, and being around that can change a person. How much, we're just going to see when he gets out..."

Derek bit his lip before nodding. He couldn't imagine what Stiles was going through; sweet, innocent spastic Stiles with the heart of gold.

"So what's that put the countdown at now?" Derek asked, placing his coffee on the desk.

"Six weeks. Pending any other issues. I'll keep calling, see if I can talk them into giving him visitations back. We'll figure something out Derek. If you can bring Jackson back from the brink of death, Stiles can make it another six weeks. It's okay."

Derek hoped he was right.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait! Work, depression naps and pretending to have a social life get in the way of everything.
> 
> I really hope you like it. Next chapter should be up soon-ish.

**Author's Note:**

> I won't be focusing on the JDC stay much-this will mostly be focusing on the house arrest portion. Please note, I'm a totally goodie goodie who's never been in trouble, so my knowledge comes from an ex boyfriend who was a prison guard and tv....


End file.
